Halt and Catch Fire Page #2

CLARK:

Look, I’m sorry-

DONNA:

I get that you’re unhappy, Gordon.

CLARK:

It’s the job, it’s this whole

place, it’s this whole situation-

7.

DONNA:

Things didn’t turn out how we

planned. So what?

CLARK:

Don’t you miss it?

DONNA:

What do you want me to say? I’ll

say it again, like I always do,

Gordon. We can move back to Palo

Alto tomorrow. What I can’t do is

build a time machine and get us

back to Palo Alto six years ago.

CLARK:

Donna, the choice was stay or have

Joanie. I took the job at Cardiff

Giant so we wouldn’t have to--

DONNA:

(’keep your voice down’)

Joanie was coming no matter what.

(pause)

You know what I think? I think you

were scared, because in California

it was just a bunch of us smoking

dope and fiddling with circuit

boards in Steve’s garage. So we

left.

CLARK:

(too loud)

Right, and then Steve shaved his

beard and made a hundred million

dollars. Is that your point?

Haley wakes up in the back seat.

HALEY:

Daddy?

Donna glares at her husband. Are you happy now?

DONNA:

Sorry, girls. Daddy’s pretty tired.

CUT TO:

INT. SENIOR VICE PRESIDENT’S OFFICE -- DAY

The room where your dad’s boss held court. Enviously big.

Credenzas with framed family pictures (wife, two young boys)

shadowed behind prominently displayed sales awards.

8.

But this isn’t IBM. The windows look out onto a flat and

seemingly endless horizon of low-rise buildings and prairie.

We’re a long way from New York.

ANGLE ON JOHN BOSWORTH (48), an eagle resting in permanent

judgment, comfortably in power behind his desk. When he

speaks, it’s equal parts brass tacks and Texas drawl.

But right now, he’s listening.

MACMILLAN (O.S.)

Eight weeks inpatient, six months

physical therapy.

BOSWORTH:

So why’d you do it?

ANGLE ON Joe MacMillan seated across from him, somehow back

from the dead. In his black suit, but with a vivid red tie. A

small scar runs along the outside of his eye.

MACMILLAN:

I don’t recall putting my car

accident on the resume.

Bosworth picks up a single sheet of paper from his desk.

BOSWORTH:

Let’s talk about what I do see on

it. Three bold letters. I. B. M.

(tosses paper down)

I know what IBM is. I also know

what IBM ain’t. And anything that

ain’t IBM is cheaper, better,

faster. That’s what this company

lives by.

MACMILLAN:

Well, John, that’s what General

Electric thought. And RCA. And

UNIVAC-

BOSWORTH:

And Burroughs, and NCR, and

Honeywell and Control Data, and

blah, blah, blah. I know all the

companies that IBM has chased out

of this business or out of business

entirely. Cardiff Giant is not one

of them, and it won’t be.

(pause)

Look at you; same suit, different

tie.

(MORE)

9.

BOSWORTH (CONT'D)

Dallas is pretty far from Armonk,

New York, son, and that’s no

accident. You think I’m gonna see

something other than a dyed-in-thewool

company stooge?

MACMILLAN:

There is one thing IBM knows how to

do.

BOSWORTH:

An’ what’s that?

MACMILLAN:

Make money. That’s what I did for

them. And I did it very well.

Bosworth sits back in his chair, evaluating him.

BOSWORTH:

...I know.

(pause)

Look, you wouldn’t even be sittin’

in front of me if Al didn’t like

you. And he liked you. I’m just

tryin’ to figure out why.

MACMILLAN:

I’m a heavy hitter. You bring me

on, you legitimize your sales

force, this company, this town.

Maybe Silicon Prairie takes the

stage with Silicon Valley. Maybe

the suits back east will sit up and

pay attention.

BOSWORTH:

I’ll be honest with you, Joe.

Personally, I think you might be a

basket case.

(pause)

But at the end of the day, I need

someone who can come in here and

blow the balls off the numbers.

(pause)

An’ I will tell you this is systems

software, straight up. Scheduling,

database, doc management, who does

it go to, when, how many copies,

everything that makes a mainframe

purr. It ain’t sexy, but it sure as

hell makes us some serious money.

10.

MACMILLAN:

What about PC’s? That’s the real

way to get at IBM. Somebody could

pull the rug right out from under

them-

BOSWORTH:

Did you not hear me? Cardiff Giant

doesn’t tussle around with any PC

crap. As a cardinal damn rule we

are strictly disinterested in

throwing rocks at the IBM hornet’s

nest. That’s how we get our name

added to that list of companies KIA

against Big Blue.

MACMILLAN:

PC’s are anybody’s game to grab if

you do it right.

BOSWORTH:

Why do you even want this job, you

were pullin’ 300 back east.

MacMillan is without an immediate answer for the first time.

MACMILLAN:

Don’t worry, I’ll break numbers. I

always do.

BOSWORTH:

Yeah, yeah, and I’ve got an in-

ground swimming pool. Why are you

really here?

A beat. Some honesty seeps through MacMillan’s veneer.

MACMILLAN:

I need... something different.

Bosworth takes that in. Then stands up, as does MacMillan.

BOSWORTH:

You answer to Al and Al answers to

me. And I’m the SVP of Sales so

you’re dogshit until you close a

deal. Understand?

MACMILLAN:

I do.

BOSWORTH:

Good. We’re married. You may now go

make your numbers.

11.

They shake hands, purely professional. A battle of direct and

challenging eye contact. MacMillan begins to leave.

BOSWORTH (CONT’D)

MacMillan.

MacMillan stops at the door, turns.

BOSWORTH (CONT’D)

Are you better?

Long beat.

MACMILLAN:

I am.

CUT TO:

INT. CLARK’S HOUSE - KITCHEN -- NIGHT

Familiar dark wood cabinets and earth-tone countertops of a

1980s American middle-class home.

ANGLE ON Clark as he closes the fridge, six-pack in hand.

Wrinkled dress shirt untucked, tie loose, barefoot in brown

polyester pants. Bridge of his nose badly black & blue.

DONNA ENTERS--the DIN of the living room suggests that she

and the kids are watching prime time.

DONNA:

How was work?

CLARK:

(heading for garage)

Hmph...

DONNA:

Hey.

He stops. Turns.

DONNA (CONT’D)

You gonna be all right?

CLARK:

I’m sorry, I’m just... look, I’m

gonna duck into the garage for

awhile.

His face is a tired ‘please let me go.’ She nods, and he

disappears through the darkness of the back door.

CUT TO:

12.

INT. CLARK’S GARAGE -- MOMENTS LATER

ANGLE ON a record player, sitting atop a 1970s receiver with

a blue lit-up dash. Nothing digital here as the needle hits

the groove on Supertramp’s “Crime of the Century.”

“BLOODY WELL RIGHT” LOUDLY PLAYS THROUGH THE SPEAKERS

ANGLE ON Clark as he cracks a beer and lets loud stoner rock

wash over him. He closes his eyes...

ANGLE ON the garage space. The family cars never come in

here. This is a Silicon Valley DIY workshop right out of

1975. A sanctuary and homage to the life Clark once led.

Mixed in with the landscaping tools and power drills are

pristine circuit boards, monitors, monstrosities of

electronics. Apple II’s, Atari 2600’s, Altairs, TI-99’s in

various states of functionality, assembly.

The MUSIC continues as we...

CUT TO:

INT. MACMILLAN’S CONDO -- LATE NIGHT

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